Juliet Finds the Dagger Before His Words
by Kuja's Moon
Summary: After the death of Cedric Harry can't seem to stop blaming himself. Taking an old muggle habbit to use he finds solitude in a forgotten bathroom... Until someone finds him.


**Title:** Juliet Finds the Dagger Before His Words   
**Author name:** Kujas Moon  
**Author email:** duoyuy10@hotmail.com  
**Category:** Angst  
**Sub Category:** Drama  
**Keywords:** Draco x Harry  
**Rating:** R  
**Spoilers:** GoF  
**Summary:** After the death of Cedric Harry can't seem to stop blaming himself. Taking an old muggle habbit to use he finds solitude in a forgotten bathroom... Until someone finds him.  
**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I don't own any of the characters or places in this story (those belong to J K Rowling) I just own the ... plot.  
**Author notes:** Please note that this fiction is complete angst -- both this part and it's sequel. Do keep in mind that there is a form of Non-con in this part, but I don't rate it as "NC-17" purely for the fact that it has nothing to do with the purposes of any of the NC-17 fictions out there.   
On other notes I'd like to thank my closest friends for having the patience to read through some of my more depressing works for my usual loads of errors (I'll have all of you notice that they say that there were actually far less errors than any of my other works! *beams* ^__________^)  
Also I'd like to point out the yaoi - or as HP fans call it "slash" in this story...... yes, there are boys together...... and, yes, you're exactly right ------ I don't care if you don't like it.......... if it makes you feel better..... then pretend one's a boy and the other's a girl... though ----- since they're in the BOYS bathroom .... awh, whatever....... just know I warned you fair and square.  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  


Warning: YAOI!!!! Non-con, angst

Pairing: Draco x Harry

"Juliet Finds the Dagger Before His Words"

  


"Dismissed!"

Thank God! I picked up my books, shoving them, along with my quills and ink, into my bag, pushing back the chair too quickly and making for the door before anyone else had started moving.

"Harry?" In unison, I heard Ron and Hermione's voices etched with concern, but I was already down the hall.

I _had_ to get away - away from everything, everyone - even them. Somewhere inside me a twinge of guilt tugged, but I pushed it to the back of my mind - I'd think about that later. Later - everything was later nowadays.

Glancing around me, making sure no one was in the hall, I slipped into the boys bathroom - the one by the potions dungeon. The door thudded closed behind me, and I let my back slam in to it so that all the air in my lungs was forced out roughly - my eyes closed.

But even with them closed, the images still haunted me - it was continuous... a never-ending-never-waking nightmare. The darkness that still surrounded me was thick in my throat... all around me. The hissing voice that never seemed to go away - and, _god_, the haunting blank gray eyes - the slackened mouth... arms spread as though calling back to the heavens for the return of his soul. I cringed, sinking - my back sliding down the length of the door. The limp form was still heavy in my arms - cruelly motionless, cruelly lifeless weight... Cedric....

I squeezed my eyes tightly shut clinching my jaw - I know what they said - I know they didn't _blame_ me, but I did - I _do_. My arms that had been wrapped around me clinched to fists in my robes.

Why? I had had an entire summer away from this - and yet... still there was a sickening emptiness in me.

Pushing myself away from the door, I tried once again - the umpteenth time - to tell myself that he hadn't felt a thing - it was entirely painless... _hopefully_... and that in the end I would get revenge for him. On my hands I crawled feebly to the sink and mirrors. My hands gripped at the white porcelain and I noted the whiteness of my knuckles with bitter amusement.

I pulled myself to peer, almost unwantingly, at my reflection. My dark hair its usual unkemptness, and my glasses secured with the strip of tape, ... my scar - damned lightening bolt, but these were the only things that I recognized in the person staring back at me. My eyes - they had lost something in them - what I wasn't sure. And beneath them, beneath my dark rimmed glasses danced circles... so black that they looked painted on. My skin... stretched unseemingly tightly across my features was deathly pale... making me appear more of a ghost then a boy.

It was me - it was supposed to be _me_ who died, not Cedric; what did he ever do to deserve it... _nothing_! He was there only because _I_ had convinced him to be.

I had been staring at the mirror - not really seeing - but at this thought I turned away in disgust at myself.

If only I hadn't been so reckless - so cowardly - if only I had just faced death... like he had - then no one would have to mourn for him, I wouldn't have had to face his mother, tears in her eyes - hoping against hope that it was all a mistake, that her baby boy would blink his stormy eyes, smile foolishly and wake up. It's not as though I hadn't tried to wake him - oh, I did - a thousand times I did - or at least I thought I did. How can one fully believe that one of his classmates is truly gone? How can one really grasp that concept fully? It becomes far too hard, too complex - since I began to seem him everywhere - _everywhere_.

I had recently come into the habit of wearing a thick leather bracelet. With morbid fascination I undid that snaps, revealing to the cold air a bony wrist - starkly blue veins... and more scars... thousands of thin lines back and forth ... some old, some... not so.

It disgusted me to the point of depression that I couldn't take it like a man - just die and get it over with, that I had to play at it so constantly without really succeeding at it. I mean, somewhere in my head, I guess, I knew dying wouldn't help... but somehow I had convinced myself that - that maybe with my death they'd be able to bring Cedric back.

More than once I shifted uneasily in my dark thoughts - why, if magic was so wonderful, could it not bring him back? If it was so much better to be a wizard than a muggle then _why_ couldn't they save a boy from something that was never meant to happen to him at all!

Death was not so easily cured - I suppose - or, in my case, gained.

I stared unblinking at the dark line that bubbled freshly when I clinched my fist.

God, but I was a whimp - and it was no use trying to act as if nothing was wrong - but they didn't push it since I was always forcing a smile.

I glared down at my wrist, angry that the blood wouldn't come faster.

"Potter, what _are_ you doing?"

My head snapped up; eyes wide with fear of being caught - who could have come in here? No one ever did - that's why I had chosen this room; but that sneer was familiar, as was the silvery blonde hair and cold pewter eyes.

Draco.

My mouth fell slack and all I could do was stare in shock, forgetting momentarily my shame - but only for a moment.

He swept into the room, robes gliding around him as though he wasn't strutting toward me but instead floating. I felt small and insecure - during the summer holidays Malfoy had unfortunately made grounds in the way of where height was concerned. Instead of our height equaling out he now had a few inches on me, much to my discomfort and dismay.

"I always thought you never had much of a backbone," he commented dryly, as he leered over me.

Unsteadily I rose to my feet, hands clutching for support on the sink behind me,

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Even I could hear the hollowness in my voice.

"Oh," he shrugged lightly, taking his hand up to brush away a strand of hair. "I overheard your little side-kicks - they seemed so worried about their mini celebrity!" He sighed dramatically, eyes flashing as he sneered. "And I saw you drop in here and thought - since we're such good friends and all - the least I could do was see if you were okay." His smile was smug as he stepped closer.

His two inches annoyed me - forcing me in my weakened state to look up at him. It was as though he planned this - What was he playing at? "We're _hardly_ friends." I forced my voice to be cold and threatening, but he didn't seem to take the hint, so I added, "Go _away_."

His smirk grew - if possible - challenging me with his eyes; I didn't feel up to it, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of winning.

He looked away suddenly after a dark gleam in his eyes lit up and grabbed my wrist roughly from behind me.

"Potter, _Potter_," he tutted. "Let me guess - Cedric." He gave me a look that screamed sympathy and sarcasm.

I stared at him stunned - my mouth again slackened. Was I so obvious that even Malfoy knew? Or was he just doing this to make some conquest? I knew that if Malfoy wanted something bad enough - Malfoy got it. And if Malfoy wanted to humiliate me in front of the world - then he'd probably succeed. Oddly enough I didn't draw back - maybe deep down I wanted someone to know - someone to pretend to care at least.

Slowly, his eyes locked with mine, he brought my inner wrist up to his lips, kissing it. Surprisingly his lips were soft and gentle, but what surprised me more was I didn't react - just continued staring at him as though he had grown another head.

He laughed - looking at me from under his dark silver lashes. "They didn't notice, Potter, did they? How long has it been going on?" He sounded sincere, which was insane - because this was Malfoy.

I didn't reply, instead glaring at him evenly - what _was_ he trying to pull?

As if to answer my unspoken question his voice rose from the silence, "Is it so much that I don't wish to see my archenemy end in _this_ way?" I could feel his hot breath against my neck.

"Malfoys don't do anything for the well-being of others," I countered, but my voice faltered slightly - why was he still here? "You can leave now," I hissed, partly because I wanted to be alone, but mostly because I was confused and thus at ill ease with his odd behavior. And I didn't want him to know what my bracelet hide or why - yet in someway he already knew! I felt my lips thin into a line and my jaw again was clenched.

"You don't really want me to leave, Potter, and you know it."

My eyes narrowed and I bit back my reply - hoping against hope that if I ignored him maybe he would vanish.

Instead he neared me - so close that I could _feel_ his breath against my cheek. I tensed uncertainly, my gaze becoming fixed on the wooden door. _He_ wasn't _here_ - he just _wasn't_, the voice screamed in my head angrily. So if he wasn't there I wasn't going to be bothered by his persistent existence. I nodded my head once firmly, then thinking that perhaps I deserved this. This is what I got for not being capable of dying; Malfoy was sent here to torture me to the very edge of my life in the most painful way possible and, God, it was working. I wanted to flinch away from the heat of Draco's body - but I couldn't move, that would mean he was winning, right?

I closed my eyes for only the briefest of times - to try and erase the aching behind my eyes.

And it was then that Malfoy attacked, in a way that took me by such surprise - that I could only gasp, so that my right hand, still clutched at the sink, hurt from trying to dig _through_ the porcelain. He _still_ held my left wrist tightly in his - and I leaned backward over the mouth of the sink in attempt to draw back.

Because his lips were on mine, warm - no, hot - forced yet soft, demanding and angry - but .... Was I only imagining? ... gently possessive. His hands were tied around me _painfully_ so - at my waist - as though he knew my refusal, stilled against my tongue, and forced it back down my throat. And even as I leaned back - my posture resembling something from a ballet - had I not been in such a situation I might have wondered about my flexibility, for I had not thought I could bend so, and yet - he followed me easily.

It was only when his breath was lost that he drew back enough to look at me sternly as if daring me to speak, and I flew to the bait.

"What in the hell are you trying to pull, Malfoy?" I hissed, my hand un-held by his came up to rest unceremoniously on his clad chest - attempting and _failing_ to push him away.

"I think that should be obvious, Potter," his voice was husky - sensual, and even though I fought against it, it sent shivers up my spin. As he spoke he pushed open my robes, freeing my hand to slip his between my belt and tensed flesh.

A wave of horror crashed over me, breaking in such a way that it left me motionless, staring up at him with wide eyes.

"Oh, come off it, Potter, you've been begging for a good fuck and you know it." He snapped, his silvery eyes dancing - sparking.

I was shocked at his words, but my tongue was sharper than my mind -

"Oh, and I suppose you think you're the one to do it? Like anything you do could ever be good."

"That was a mistake, Potter," his voice dark and threatening suddenly. I felt small - helpless. Not one of my brightest ideas, I swallowed; my thoughts forcing themselves on what he said - the tone of his voice.

It was true, I supposed. All I seemed capable of since school had begun back was become a ghost of myself, going down the halls with my head down, my satchel pressed close to my chest and yet still managing to be carelessly held there. I had found myself constantly in classes unable to focus on the professors' words - and everywhere I turned the corridors were haunting reminders of the previous year and all my mistakes - my faults and failures - that perhaps I could have saved him, perhaps I could have taken his place. And why should I act like I was the only one suffering, the only one in pain -

Because I deserved to be - to be the only one on whom this heavy weight fell. If I was so special - how come I couldn't stop everything from going wrong?

But Draco was right -

And now he was angry - I could feel it radiating from him like the sun's burning rays.

I choked when he grabbed my shoulders - I didn't make a move to stop him, to protest, because I deserved everything he could and would dish out. This would be my redemption - my redemption from failing Cedric - for making his mother cry. I could hope all I wanted for his torture to be gentle, for it to be love in his eyes - not the thick hatred with every fiery touch... but I wouldn't get it - no, I would get what I deserved, completely.

I looked up at him, trembling inside of myself and a frown touched the corner of his lips and something akin to disappointment flash in his pewter eyes. Maybe disappointment from my resigned fate - but I hadn't time to read it and now it was gone - some how I knew I'd never see it again.

My tongue slipped out to wet my lips, and I looked away only to receive a sharp slap - sending my head to the side.

"You'll look at me, Potter, so help me - I'll see your eyes filled with fear," his voice was shaking with rage, "and I'll see you loving it too." His words spat at me, but I didn't move because I didn't want him to read me back and front and through again. I _didn't _want him to know me that well - not even Ron... knew me... so wel -

Hands tightened painfully on my shoulders, digging in, I gasped - and he threw me onto the tiled floor, my head resounding with a loud smack, and I saw stars as he sank down on me, as though I were lion's prey, straddling me.

"Draco," my voice trembled and my eyes tilted up unconsciously to lock with Malfoy's. His eyes were burning ice and I shrank away from him.

His hands were knowing, yet clumsily - with impatience, as they locked onto my shirt, pulling it apart. His fingertips were cold against my skin and I tried to pull away half-heartedly, my eyes never leaving his. And he circled my nipples with his fingers - my eyes... lips began pouting and tears were welling up - but he seemed to get what he wanted, for a smile touched his lips.

"Draco," my voice but a shadow as he bent to breath heavily against the rapid, choked rising and falling of my chest. "Please..." I didn't finish -

Please stop - because if you continue you'll only give me the courage. Please don't, because I'll only succeed where Voldemort failed so many times. Please leave, because _strangely_ there is an emotion I couldn't place in the pit of my stomach. And I didn't care to figure it out - this bottling intense feeling inside of me. So please stop, don't start, just go away, because I'm so afraid of your eyes - so afraid of your temper that I can no longer tremble - for I'm too much in shock.

Burning was his breath against my flesh - and all I could do was place my hands to the sides of his head, staring in unadulterated horror.

His fingers went to grab my jaw and lost I became in his melted silver eyes. His lips again were against mine - forced and bruising, my teeth mashed against my lips, cutting in. I could feel his too - and could only think of how straight they felt against mine.

My lungs were shrinking, withering from lack of breath and fear that Draco might compress me into dust against the tiled floor. But quite suddenly he let me go, fervently and haphazardly kissing, biting, tearing his way down my chest.

My lips trembled in spite of my willing them not to, and for a brief second I clenched my eyes shut, feeling the single tear tumble - lonely - down my cheek into my hair - but I refused to give it playmates - he would _not_ - above all - see me break down.

His hands were at my pants now, and he stripped them down so they tangled at my angles - underwear following.

And here he sat back and I looked up at him. But his eyes weren't fixed with mine at the moment; he eyed his work with a scrutinizing gaze. His eyes were cold - fierce, and I shivered helplessly as he looked me up and down.

Finally, apparently satisfied, he moved to stand - his own pants, dropping with a soft thud as he stepped out of them. His shirt was left unbuttoned but didn't slip from his shoulders as had his robes.

He sank back to his knees, eyes back to boring through mine.

He grabbed at my knees hoisting then over his shoulders, and I... I didn't object.

I didn't stop him when he leered over me; I didn't stop him when he braced himself with one hand beside my head; I didn't stop him when his fingers dug so possessively into my hips; and I could only hiss in pain as he entered me, breaking me, tearing me apart, killing me... filling me.

Only my eyes dared him to continue, and only my hand grabbing at his shoulder blade was encouraging. My other arm was thrown out away from us - lifeless with its scars, standing out oddly against my flushed skin.

His pounding was relentless, driving my back painfully into the tiled floor.

"Why?" My voice was husky and choked between exhaling and inhaling.

"You needed it, Potter, you wanted it - asked for it... begged... Harry." His voice was breathless, catching and highly intoxicating. The way my given name rolled from his lips - the world surely stopped for the briefest of seconds.

That was it; there was nothing left to be said, so we didn't speak. He continued in a steady rhythm and I found myself angling my hips in such a way that it sent shivers throughout my body.

There was nothing gentle in it - and I never expected that so I can't say I missed it. This was my _punishment_ I reminded myself as his rhythm sped up - became a harder pattern to follow, to the point were all I could do was grit my teeth and bear every mismatched plunge he took.

It was at the point where words would fail the pain and - anyway - my voice at long length was lost, that he drove in so deeply, cementing his torture with the burning liquid that raced through my veins, claiming me... as his.

He fell limp against me - sticky, sated; his lips were turned up and his eye half-lidded. His breathing was still ragged and uneven - and I admit that he looked utterly beautiful in his own vulnerability.

His face was close, and I found myself leaning up, capturing his lips. It was the softest thing I had yet experienced, and for a few minutes it was the sweetest point of my life - but he jerked back suddenly as if something had switched on in his head.

He reared back so he sat on his heels between my legs, staring down at me. For a long time there was only silence as we stared back at each other - neither of us sure which one started the staring contest.

"What?" Harsh was the word to my ears - as thought forced through his teeth.

"What! Did you think I actually _liked_ you? Do you, Potter------- no, this is another way to prove my superiority to you..." And it's Draco's voice - cold and calculated - meant to crush me.

Spare me the words - just get it over with, whatever you mean to do to me - or... maybe... maybe slow and painful is what I need.

"It's what you wanted, isn't it, Potter?"

And his eyes are upon me again - cold metal... it drilled into my emeralds - breaking them -

And then he made his point, pulling slowly out, making my breath hitch in pain - my eyes clamped shut.

His fingers stung against my skin.

"Keep them open, Potter, keep them on me - only me - they're _mine_." His voice was strong, yet trembling; I suddenly found that I was obeying him.

Empty - empty and alone, and, yet, Draco was still there - but I only felt like a shell, lying broken on the bathroom floor.

He stood up, stepping into his pants, shouldering his robes, always with his eyes on me.

Only at the door - when he was almost out - after he whispered fiercely, "You're mine," did he leave me naked - vulnerable.

And then I let the tears fall - pulling my clothes around me - trembling all over, I reached in the pockets of my robes - my hands feeling in them - overtouching the wand - and moving off to the next object, pulling it out.

As the light caught it, it gleamed eagerly, hissing in excitement. I stared at it lovingly, automatically lifting my hands to position them comfortably against me.

Yes, for Cedric, I smiled... I'd have to thank Draco next time I saw him.

I could do it now - I could take Cedric's place.

With a definite sigh I smiled again, sadly, pushing down with purpose, and I watched in sickening fascination as the thick redness bubbled over my wrist spilling completely around me.

It didn't hurt so bad.... It wasn't so _hard_.

~Owari~ 

Hmmmm, dark, eh? And with a darker (maybe) sequel (I've even written it already! ~_^)

So feedback would be nice.


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